


I'll get yours, and you'll get mine

by eggwriter



Category: Oklahoma! - Rodgers/Hammerstein
Genre: Alternate Setting – 2010s, F/M, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Pining, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28750161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggwriter/pseuds/eggwriter
Summary: I thought I'd drop by to say, "Hi"Sweetly, serenely, she showed me her gunBaby, let's go get high
Relationships: Curly McLain/Laurey Williams, Jud Fry/Curly McLain, Jud Fry/Laurey Williams
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	I'll get yours, and you'll get mine

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, me again, back at it with almost blatant Jud apologism because I like playing in the space of "what if he was 20% less of an asshole." Thus the modern setting, even though I _disavow_ modern settings.
> 
> I've tried to make the sex as non-explicit as possible whilst writing three people getting it on.

Curly McLain’s hair always smells so enticingly. Jud hasn’t had the time to appreciate it until now, now that they actually can handle being in one another’s company before Curly decides they’re two half-cocked roosters contesting territory.

It’s likely they never would’ve come to this conclusion had it not been for Laurey’s mediation – at times more diplomatic, at times loud yelling for them to _settle down, relax damn you_ – that lead all three of them to eventually at some truce. 

Truce means that now Jud can lean in a little closer while Curly is monologuing, catch his smell of shampoo and sweat and one-dollar shaving gel, all without Curly rearing back and snarling, “Need somethin’, Jud?”

Laurey – Laurey is completely different. She never snarled at Jud, except once, but that doesn’t mean he dared to come close. She had taken notice of how he keeps his distance, and she had called out – “Are you gonna skulk like a coyote all day or actually say something?” – and Jud had rushed off with his cheeks burning hot.

But it’s different now.

He thought it was a prank the first time Curly firmly patted his shoulder and asked him if he wanted to come with him and Laurey for a meal at the McKenna. Curly hadn’t called it dinner, but it had been six PM and already a pitch black winter evening, and Jud had damn well thought it was a hazing. 

Jud still went. Some small foul part of him hoped that it would be a joke, that that little evil shard in his soul would be right and all his terrible notions would be proven true.

It’s why he barely knew how to react when it wasn’t the case, when Laurey and Curly were sitting at a four-person booth and Laurey already had finished half her soda, and both of them looked up seeing him and greeted him with some enthusiasm. Jud hadn’t questioned it – they had talked about making amends, burying hatchets – because it felt like if he questioned it then it would fall apart and become fake.

Jud had ordered chicken wings with a sauce the menu referred to as ‘Death Row.’ It burned the entire way down his throat, not even soothed with soda and shares of Curly’s molten cheese dip that both Jud and Laurey amply plundered over the evening. There was one joke that Curly cracked that had made Laurey let out a laugh, a real laugh that wasn’t meant to be attractive – all squinted eyes and dimples – and Curly had been mightily satisfied with himself. Jud didn’t even remember the joke.

He noticed for the first time that evening, that Curly and Laurey’s eyes were almost the same. A deep sable, lit from fluorescent diner lamps, with rich lashes and something inscrutable in them.

* * *

When it happens it comes as a surprise, pulled out of the very depths of Jud’s dreams: they proposition him.

He can’t even remember the conversation where it happened, the memory drowned out by adrenaline and his own heartbeat, but it had been… _something_. Something about them liking him (and wasn’t that enough already!), something about Curly having heard college is for experimenting, and Laurey – God, she looked at him with those big dark eyes and he believed every word she said, trusting as a lamb being guided to the slaughter.

There had definitely been alcohol involved in the conversation. Their school isn’t large enough for any kind of frat parties like you see in the movies, but Annie’s daddy had money and Annie had spirit. No blaring music or crazy partying, just a lot of people laughing and drinking and saying things they’d either regret or not remember. Jud didn’t remember a single moment where Curly’s drunken leer wasn’t to be seen. 

But the proposition had stuck, and every time Jud met the couple after that there was a sort of buzzing awkwardness between them, a warm tension lingering in every look and every touch and a promise of what to come.

“Now if yew don’t mind me getting blue, how do we do this without making a mess?” Curly had asked last week. He had crooked a dubious brow when Jud explained that if he made use of the bathroom, washed, and then made sure to drink nothing but water up until the deed he should be fine. Jud imagined introducing him to douching was a few steps ahead for them both.

It – because they only call it _it_ as if afraid to say anything else – is taking place at Laurey’s place since she’s the only one who has an apartment. The dorms aren’t foreign to any such activity (half the dorm rooms smell of sex, sweat and weed) but they want to do it proper, without risk of being seen and heard.

There’s a nervous air over Curly as they drive to the apartment. He fidgets, running his tongue along the inside of his pretty mouth, tapping the steering wheel off-beat to the radio. Jud mirrors his anxiety to the same degree at the very least, but he hides it better; digging his nails into his palms, humming in the back of his throat as response when Curly says things like, “I think it’s this way,” and, “Always hate this crossing.”

Curly has the keys to Laurey’s small apartment, knocking before unlocking and stepping in and announcing them with a whistle and a comedic, “Housekeeping.”

“Implying you ever clean anything when yer done,” Laurey calls back from a half-closed door. Her apartment is lit with a warm lamp-light, turning the hallway and nearby rooms into an earthy palette. Most of the furniture looks to be either thrifted or acquired from Aunt Eller, with trinkets slewn over every surface; keychains, chargers, wires, combs, pens and pink post-its.  
The entire place smells decidedly of Laurey herself, that inexplicable unique smell every home has. Curly moves through the hallway like he nigh lives there, approaching what must be Laurey’s door.

Laurey steps out of her room, and Jud’s breath goes out of him.

She is wearing an unbuttoned flannel in glossy silk, revealing a purple bra in lace – the uncomfortable kind, made to be pretty – and her legs are completely bare. Her large eyes blink at him and he blinks back forcing himself to not look at the swell of her chest and her soft stomach, thinking, _she has freckles there too_.

“Hi,” she tells them both, giving Curly a look of annoyance and affection, giving Jud that brown-eyed look he never knows how to decipher. “How you feelin’?”

“Just swell,” Curly says in their stead. His voice is thick. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

“I am, and I washed it. You should be grateful.”

Sour jealousy forms in Jud’s mouth and he bites it back; he doesn’t have to be jealous, they’re sharing this with him. He looks over Laurey’s head and into her room. It is a good thing they chose her apartment: the college dorms only have single beds, and in Jud’s scarce experience they’re so slim that half the time is spent not trying to fall onto the floor.

It is a little awkward. None of them know exactly how to act, not in this situation and not with each other, and they’re all too dignified to ask. Curly’s legs are slim and just as oddly hairless as the rest of him beneath those old jeans, and Jud follows the shape of him with his eye. 

Jud’s breath is stuck high in his chest, ice in his veins and burning through his nerves. It feels invasive even though he has been invited to join them. He wants to run away. He wants to lunge into both their arms. He wants to panic, and he wants so badly to be touched.

“W-well?” Laurey says to him, sitting on the bed. “Gawk if you want, but I didn’t put this on just to be ogled.”

Jud has kissed Laurey once before, but it was so rash and they were both drunk. This is different – he can take his time, and there’s not that pang of guilt. Her lips are soft and plush against his, kissing him twice with some curiosity. She tastes like raspberry-flavored chewing gum.

Curly interrupts them to kiss Jud like they’re two wild dogs. It is not fervent but there still are clacks of teeth on teeth, a possessive air and the confidence of a man who does not quite know what he is doing but who wants to prove otherwise. 

There is some uncertainty as to how they’re going to go about the whole thing. Curly demands attention with every move he makes, arranging himself so that he has somehow taken up both their laps, tenting his grey underwear and eyes hazy with lust, “I didn’t wash my ass twice today for you _not_ to pop my cherry, Jud.”

Laurey’s chest shudders as she stifles a laugh. “I think I did that a while back to you already, Curly.”

“Fingers don’t count.”

Curly has been gentleman enough to provide condom and lube, both of quite fine quality and not just the cheapest available at a gas station. He and Laurey are both clean, and so is Jud, but they want to avoid a mess. 

The plan is for Curly to be in the middle, giving it to Laurey and taking it from Jud. The very thought makes all three of them flush, and that’s before Laurey unclasps her bra and shows her breast, soft dark nipples and perfect freckles adorning the between. 

Jud only gets a few seconds to stare, because then Curly shoves himself against his groin and croons impatiently. 

A good chunk of his boldness diminishes when he’s on all fours and having Jud work a finger into his ass, with Laurey soothing him and trying not to be too amused at his tension.

“You’re doing very well,” she says and kisses his shoulder. 

“Don’t treat me like I’m a nervous colt,” Curly murmurs and closes his eyes. He is in fact doing a good job, even if both Jud and Laurey telling him to _‘relax’_ has as big an effect as though they were saying it in another language. Then, Jud has two slick fingers in him and he’s gently pushing when Curly seizes down on himself and lets out a groan so pretty Jud almost gets dizzy. Looking at Laurey, she seems to have thought the same thing — pressing her thighs tight and rocking back and forth against herself. 

Laurey makes a series of bitten back little whimpers when Curly enters her, his talented long fingers gently rubbing at the top of her sex as he gives a few tentative thrusts. Curly looks back at Jud, his eyelashes heavy and his cheeks glistening with sweat. 

“Do it,” he says, raw — no joke or snide comment. And Jud does. 

Curly is terribly tight and warm, and his stubborn refusal to relax doesn’t help either. He lets out a high shaky cry when he’s buried in Laurey and Jud in turn is buried in him, and all three of them have to stop to breathe and take in the situation. Over Curly’s shoulder Jud can see Laurey, her hair fanned out over the pillow. Her eyes closed and she is smiling softly in pure bliss. 

Jud moves slowly so as to not hurt Curly, and the friction is more than enough. Laurey shifts upwards and Curly moves with her, slowly at first but then he begins to work up a steady pace. Jud is struck by the thought he is fucking Laurey _through_ Curly, and he cries out and can’t help the stutter of his hips. 

“You alright?” Laurey asks in a voice thick with strain. Jud isn’t certain who she’s asking, but there’s no time to clarify before Curly says with a toothy grin and drenched in sarcasm, “Oh no, it’s _awful_ ,” before he bites down on his lip and sighs. 

Laurey rolls her eyes in spite of barely being able to keep them open. Jud can’t help himself, he leans in and kisses her above Curly, and though surprised she kisses back. 

When Curly is close he uses both hands to steady himself on the bed, face screwed into a grimace as he is told by both parties, “just a little longer,” “I’m almost there too.” He nearly growls when he finally comes, and Jud follows him soon thereafter, wrapping both arms around Curly’s thin frame and squeezing him tight as his mind whites out and he comes with his nose buried in Curly’s hair. 

He’s close enough to hear Curly hiss out “oh Jesus Christ,” his arms shaking something awful before he collapses and barely manages to miss Laurey. Jud again finds himself grateful for the size of Laurey’s bed. 

“We ain’t done,” Curly drawls with his face in the mattress, though making no effort to move in any direction. Jud realizes then that Laurey didn’t finish, though that doesn’t seem to diminish the smug enjoyment still on her face. 

“Y’mind?” he asks her, and she shakes her head impatiently and lets Jud crawl between her legs. Her thighs are hot and soft, and Jud kisses them before he reaches her sex. He makes sure not to use the same hand with her that he used with Curly, instead planting his mouth on her and beginning to gently kiss and suck until she’s shaking. 

It doesn’t take very long for her to come, she’s already so worked up — when she does finally climax, it is with a sharp gasp and two hands in Jud’s hair. 

After that Jud finally falters, exhaustion setting into every limb as he drags himself up and down onto the middle of the bed so he is between the two lovers. Curly is no longer gasping, and a peaceful expression Jud never has seen before is slowly growing on his handsome face.

Jud is uncertain what to say in the complicated air left by the afterglow, sat in a bed that doesn’t belong to him and next to two people who shared with him their love.

He decides to say nothing, instead lies down on his back and fidgets with his bottom lip. For once in his life, Jud finds himself without the ability to grovel, and when a hand is gently placed on his shoulder he doesn’t care whose it is.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :] I wrote this mostly as a Christmas gift but now I'm too into it. 
> 
> Credits go to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iM876krhFBg), because I think horrible horny punk is the jurlylaurey anthem.


End file.
